Six Months of Chaos: A Survivor’s Milestone

[Signal detected…]

Six months ago, I started this little corner of chaos thinking I’d maybe post a few survival stories, get a handful of clicks, and quietly freeze to death somewhere in The Long Dark. Back then, it was just me, a Nintendo Switch, and the idea of documenting how many ways I could die before breakfast.

Since then, the blog’s grown far beyond what I expected — from Switch survival diaries to Steam Deck expeditions, from small guides to full-blown playthroughs and embracing chaos. And somehow, it’s still alive — which feels like a small miracle, considering most blogs don’t make it past the first few months. Hundreds of clicks, countless laughs, and a few subscribers later, I’m still here — fuelled by caffeine and questionable decisions.

So first and foremost — thank you. Whether you’ve clicked, read, liked, shared, or just wandered in wondering how someone can die to a rabbit, I appreciate every single bit of support.

Transmission #0 – Reverse Voice Reveal

To mark the occasion, I decided to put together a short video. Some of you might’ve thought this would finally be my voice reveal. To that I say… really?

A brief burst of static, gratitude, and one very loud Godpigeon scream. Full credit, of course, to the brilliant Animaniacs team for that glorious noise.

Fuel for the Generator

I’ve also quietly launched a Ko-fi page — emphasis on quietly. I didn’t make a big announcement about it because I didn’t want it to feel like a sales pitch. Everything I create will always stay free to read and free to enjoy. That’s a promise.

I know times are tough and not everyone can spare a few pounds — and that’s perfectly fine. Your clicks, comments, and time already mean more than enough. The Ko-fi page is just there for anyone who genuinely wants to toss a tip into the mug to help keep the coffee flowing and the generator humming. Please don’t go overboard; keep the lights on at home first.

Down the line, I might look at adding a few ads on the blog or YouTube channel, but I’ll do my best to keep them minimal and non-intrusive. I’d rather focus on sharing stories and surviving the next storm than filling screens with banners and pop-ups.

Looking Ahead

There’s still a lot left to explore — new games, new disasters, same portable chaos. I’m excited (and mildly terrified) to see what the next six months bring.

So here’s to six months of frostbite, fuel shortages, and unexpected victories — and here’s to making it a full year of portable chaos. Thank you for being part of this weird, wonderful journey.

[Transmission terminated. Coffee levels: critical.]

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📌 For New Survivors: Start Here

Welcome to Survivor Incognito! This is where survival games meet chaos, comedy, and a healthy disregard for difficulty settings.

If you’re new here and wondering what this blog is all about, here’s a quick guide to help you dive in:

🎮 Why I Play on Easier Difficulties

Think playing on easy makes survival games easy? I’m living proof it doesn’t. 👉 Surviving, Not Suffering: Why I Choose Easier Difficulties

❄️ The Long Dark Must-Reads

🗺 The Long Dark Complete Region & Transition Zone Survival Guide

❄️ Customloper Diaries

📆 Survive Your First Week in The Long Dark

🧪 Permadeath, But Make It Funny

🕷 The Backyard Trials: Grounded Permadeath

🏹 Sneak, Snipe, Repeat: Skyrim Survival

🚢 Dark Waters: A Dredge Survival

🚚 Coming Soon

SnowRunner Survival: The Permagear Diaries Main Hub

Sunburnt & Sinking: A Stranded Deep Survival Diary

💬 Bonus Reading

👉 About Me

👉 The Long Dark Customloper Settings: Easier Interloper Survival Mode

👉 FAQ

Thanks for joining the mayhem. Surviving is optional. Storytelling the downfall? Mandatory

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Welcome New Survivors

Just a quick post today to say a big welcome to everyone who’s recently stumbled into the chaos of Survivor Incognito. Whether you came for the haunted fish, the frozen lakes, or the exploding oak tree, I’m glad you’re here.

If you’re new, here are a few good places to start:

  • 🗺️ Check out the Long Dark Region Guide if you’re planning a cold-weather disaster of your own.
  • 🐟 Dark Waters is nearing its eerie conclusion — perfect if you like your survival stories with a side of cosmic dread.
  • ❄️ The Customloper Diaries are still going strong — Interloper-lite, full-on panic.

This week marks the end of the Grounded permadeath run — the backyard won, basically. But starting next week, we’re trading bugs for busted axles with the debut of SnowRunner: The Permagear Diaries. Expect mud, ice, and a lot of “well that truck’s gone now” moments.

Thanks for reading — and remember: surviving is optional. Storytelling the downfall is the point.

Oh — and if you think playing on easier difficulties makes survival games easy? It doesn’t. I’m living proof that you can still freeze, starve, drown, fall off cliffs, and get stomped by wildlife with the difficulty slider turned all the way down. Turns out survival isn’t just about the settings — it’s about the decisions. And mine are… let’s say “narratively interesting.”

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Survivor’s Shorts Are Live – Because Chaos Deserves Its Own Page

Survivor’s Shorts is now live! A new page on the blog featuring my funniest, strangest, and most disastrous survival moments—bite-sized stories, full-sized regret.

—

Sometimes a moment in a survival game doesn’t need a full playthrough post—it just needs a spotlight, a raised eyebrow, and maybe a bandage.

That’s where Survivor’s Shorts comes in.

It’s a new page on the blog dedicated to the little disasters. The sudden bear charges. The pancake heartbreaks. The moose lurking behind trees. All real stories from my permadeath runs, trimmed down and served with a side of sarcasm.

If you’ve ever screamed when you meant to crouch or felt betrayed by a breakfast item, you’ll feel right at home.

—

What You’ll Find There

The Pancake Betrayal – Found the recipe. Found the syrup. Got betrayed by Cooking Level 4.

There is more coming soon. But here is what to expect for ones that are being drafted:

The Wolf That Interrupted My Mapping Session – Cartography meets carnivore.

The Moose Behind the Tree – A 5% spawn rate that showed up at 100% volume.

The Doedicurus That Broke My Spirit – One spear. No hits. Lots of tail.

The One-Shot Wonder – A bear, a rifle, and a moment of absolute panic… that somehow worked.


And plenty more moments coming soon.

—

Check it Out Here:

Survivor’s Shorts

—

Got a favourite chaotic moment?

Let me know in the comments or tag me on social—I’m always looking for new disasters to celebrate.
And if you enjoy these shorts, consider sharing the page with a fellow survivor.
Because nothing says “friendship” like a moose silently judging you from behind a tree.

—

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Submerged: A Subnautica Survival Diary – Log 10: Power Problems, Progress, and Valentino

Submerged Log 10: Power Problems, Progress, and Valentino

Platform: Steam Deck

Video: Base building, Moonpool construction, and Seamoth upgrades (no commentary)


The game congratulated me on reaching 100m deep while I was standing in my own base, which is impressive,
considering my floor doesn’t even have a depth rating.

The first thing that happens today is Subnautica having a small moment. I get the “passed 100m” message like
I’ve just descended into the abyss, when I’m very much indoors and pretending my base is a real home and not
a glorified underwater shed. I chalk it up to another glitch. The peeper-in-the-lifepod incident still lives
rent-free in my head.

Glitches aside, I’ve got one job today: make this new base functional. “Presentable” is ambitious. “Not
embarrassing” is the real target. Step one is a fabricator, because I’m done doing the lifepod commute every
time I need to make a wire.

Weather / Loot / Mood

  • Weather: Clear enough to trust solar power. Briefly. Foolishly.
  • Loot: Diamond, cave sulfur, titanium (so much titanium), quartz (eventually).
  • Mood: Productive, then annoyed, then productive again. Standard survival rhythm.

A Base Without a Fabricator Is Just a Bad Camping Trip

Once I’m out gathering materials, the game finally gives me a little kindness: another diamond. That’s the
missing piece that turns “soon” into “today,” and suddenly the Laser Cutter isn’t a distant dream anymore.

I head back to the lifepod, dig out my other diamond and the cave sulfur, and just like that: the Laser Cutter
is mine. The Aurora is officially back on the menu, and the Captain’s Quarters is finally starting to look like
a real plan instead of a brave lie I tell myself.

But not yet. Today’s obsession is still the Moonpool. I can taste it. I can also taste salt water. Both feel
inevitable.

Another Distress Signal, Another “Not Today”

I catch another distress signal, and it’s immediately obvious it’s outside my comfort zone. It’s not a “never,”
though. It’s a “give me five minutes and a better module.”

That’s the thing about Subnautica. The game doesn’t lock doors — it just points at the ocean and says,
“You can go there whenever you’re ready.” And then it laughs.

Moonpool Madness (And the Corridor Betrayal)

With the fabricator up and running, the base finally feels like mine. Not long after that, I scrape together
enough titanium for the second ingot I need, which means there’s nothing left between me and the Moonpool
except… building placement drama.

I try to be sensible. I build a corridor so the Moonpool can connect neatly, like a planned base and not a
panic build. The game disagrees. It refuses to attach, refuses to cooperate, and refuses to respect my desire
for symmetry.

So I remove the corridor, try again, and suddenly it’s happy. Of course it is. The Moonpool finally goes down
and I don’t even hesitate — I dock the Seamoth immediately and give it the charge it deserves.

Power: The Problem I Created on Purpose

The moment I dock, reality hits: the Seamoth is now drinking my base power like it’s a free refill station.
And my base power is currently solar.

Which means when the sun goes down, my base turns into a very modern art installation: “Darkness, But With
Regret.”

I need another solar panel. Simple. Easy. Except for one tiny detail: quartz.

I know where quartz is. I just can’t find the routes to the places I know have it, which is a very
specific kind of frustration. Eventually, I stumble into the right area, collect what I need, and the second
panel goes up. The base breathes again.

Mobile Vehicle Bay: Why Is It Like That?

Next up is the Mobile Vehicle Bay. I get it crafted and deployed, and immediately have to accept a hard truth:
it will never be centred the way my brain wants it to be.

I take the win anyway, because I’m here for upgrades — and the one I’ve been eyeing for a while is finally
within reach: the Seamoth Depth Module MK1.

The Depth Module, and My Sudden Forgetfulness

Another salvage trip follows. I grab the titanium, head back, and in the excitement I immediately forget the
part where titanium becomes an ingot.

So I do an unplanned little jog back to the fabricator like I’m running errands in a shopping centre, except
the shopping centre is the ocean and the parking lot is trying to kill me.

Once the ingot is made, the depth module goes in, and suddenly 300m is on the table. That’s not just a number.
That’s permission to go looking for trouble in places I previously pretended didn’t exist.

Valentino, Paint Jobs, and Immediate Karma

With the Moonpool built and the module installed, I decide it’s time to make the Seamoth feel like it belongs
to me. It needs a name. It needs a fresh look. It needs… not to be treated like a bumper car.

I take it out to repair it, because it has a few dents from my usual “precision docking.” I fix it up, feel
proud, immediately damage it again, repair it again, and dock it back in the Moonpool like nothing happened.

The name, at least, is locked in. I called it earlier in the series and I’m sticking to it:
Valentino.

The colour, though? No idea. I know it’s possible. I just don’t know how to do it yet. Hopefully by next time
I’ll have figured it out, and Valentino can stop looking like a default rental.

Next Steps

  • Head back to the Aurora and finally use that Laser Cutter like it wasn’t made for decoration.
  • Figure out how to change Seamoth colours, because I refuse to be beaten by a paint menu.
  • Start tracking down rocket blueprints, because “escape” is technically the goal. Allegedly.

Continue the journey

Previous: Submerged Log 9 |
Next: Submerged Log 11

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Unprepared: An Interloper Survival Diary in The Long Dark Log #5 – Final Day: Sixteen Days, One Mistake

Unprepared Final Log: Sixteen Days, One Mistake

Difficulty: Interloper
Region: Forlorn Muskeg → Mystery Lake
Platform: Steam Deck
Survivor: Will

Video: Return to Mystery Lake and final encounter (no commentary)

The plan today was simple. That should have been the warning sign.

The goal was clean and sensible: get back to Mystery Lake, collect the materials for a bow,
and spend tomorrow crafting. I sleep a little longer while the forge fire is still going,
pull as many torches as I dare, and head out.

After yesterday’s success, I let myself believe the hardest part was behind me.
That belief does not last long.

Across the Muskeg, Again

I stick to the snow wherever possible. Thin ice has ended too many runs to gamble with it now.
The trade-off is wildlife, and the game is more than happy to collect.

What I initially take for a deer turns out to be a moose.
I reroute, lose time, and remind myself that this is still Forlorn Muskeg.
Nothing here is free.

Wolves shadow me on the approach to Mystery Lake.
They don’t commit, but they don’t leave either.
By the time I reach the Camp Office, I’m threading paths between animals again,
including another moose loitering exactly where I don’t want it.

The Derailment Detour

Near the train derailment, I spot circling birds.
It takes longer than it should, but I eventually find the deer carcass.
The wind is picking up, so I work quickly, harvesting some meat and finally giving
the improvised knife a proper test.

I pause to think.
The smart move is turning back to the Camp Office.
Instead, I press on.

The Bridge

Wolves appear again, keeping their distance.
I keep a flare ready and tell myself I’m prepared.
When things seem quiet, I put it away.

That’s when I see the wolf on the bridge.

It reaches me before the flare burns out.
My condition collapses into the red.
I need a bandage immediately.

I don’t have one.

Crafting would take too long.
I gamble on an old man’s beard lichen dressing, forgetting — too late —
that it treats infection, not blood loss.

I bleed out on the bridge.

Epilogue

This death stung more than most.
Not because it was unfair, but because it was entirely avoidable.
The temptation to cheat death was there, and it nearly won.

But this run mattered.
If the rules bend at the end, they never mattered at all.
So this is where it ends.

Sixteen days is the longest I’ve survived on Interloper in
The Long Dark.
It’s no longer a record.

It’s the number to beat.

Continue the Journey

Previous Log | Final Log

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Stranded: A Minecraft Survival Diary – Log 8: Fences, Markers, and a Camel I Didn’t Expect

Stranded – Log 8: Fences, Markers, and a Camel I Didn’t Expect

Platform: Steam Deck
Mode: Survival
Format: No Commentary

Video: Finishing Copyright Bridge, desert exploration, marker system test, creeper incident, and unexpected camel ride (no commentary)

Before I even reached Copyright Bridge, the universe reminded me why it carries that name. As I was walking toward it, and then along it, another music copyright claim appeared. I didn’t even react at this point. It felt fitting. Of all the places for it to happen, it would be there.

I knew exactly what today was for. Finish the fence on Copyright Bridge, then find the village. No wandering aimlessly. No losing everything again. I had a plan.

First, I counted fences. Not guessed. Counted. The bridge needed more than I had, so there was another trip for wood before anything else. Once that was done and the final pieces were placed, I shifted a bit of sand into place and stepped back to look at it. Copyright Bridge now has a full fence. It wasn’t part of the original design, but the more I used it, the more it felt unfinished without one. Now it looks intentional. Safer too.

With infrastructure secured, the village was next. I could have checked the previous recording to see exactly where it was. That would have been efficient. I chose not to. Instead, I headed in the direction I believed I’d taken before.

This time I came prepared. Every so often, when I felt distance building, I stacked three cobblestone blocks vertically and placed a torch on top. A simple pillar. Visible from range. When it felt right, I repeated the process. As darkness began creeping in, I placed one marker with a small sign reading “Go South.” Future me will appreciate that clarity.

Along the way, I stumbled across something I missed previously. Gold blocks. Actual gold blocks embedded in a ruined structure, surrounded by what looked like Nether blocks. I tried mining one with a copper pickaxe. It shattered. Lesson learned. Not everything yields just because you swing at it.

I saw camels nearby and took it as confirmation I was close to the desert village again. For a moment I believed I could see the village tower in the distance. I was wrong. The shape resolved into something else entirely. Doubt crept in. I suspected I might be heading off course, but I pushed forward a little longer. I found a small cluster of coal, maybe three blocks total, and placed another marker before the light faded too far.

I was feeling confident about the marker system. Then I turned around and saw a creeper.

I won’t pretend there was time for strategy. The explosion followed. Creepers must wear slippers. That’s the only explanation. This is the second time one has reached me without warning.

The difference this time was preparation. I knew exactly where I was. The cobblestone pillars stood visible in the distance. One quick sprint, swim, and series of awkward jumps later, I had recovered every item. No panic. No guessing. Just execution.

I decided to end exploration for the night. The desert feels unpredictable, and I don’t intend to overextend again. Before leaving, I tried feeding one of the camels bread. It didn’t take it, but somehow I ended up on its back instead. That discovery alone felt like progress. I had no idea riding them was an option. I tried offering bread again. Still nothing.

I returned home the way I came, following my markers precisely as intended. Back across Copyright Bridge. Back inside. I ate a cookie and went to sleep.

The desert is hazardous for now. Next time, I may try following the water instead. It feels more predictable. Less exposed.

Continue the Journey

Previous Log |
Next Log

Stranded Hub

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Super Mario 64 Randomizer – Log 16: Lava Tricks and Pyramid Confusion

Mario 64 Randomizer – Log 16: Lava Tricks and Pyramid Confusion

Game: Super Mario 64 Randomizer
Platform: Steam Deck
Format: No Commentary

Video: Lethal Lava Land 100-coin strategy, finishing the course, and a return to Shifting Sand Land where the pyramid behaves nothing like expected (no commentary)

Finishing What I Started

It didn’t feel right leaving Lethal Lava Land unfinished. I knew there had to be a way to collect 100 coins there; I just hadn’t figured it out yet. The problem with the level is that the volcano is always tempting as the backup plan. If I went inside it, I could grab more coins, but there was a catch. The only way to spawn back into the main Lethal Lava Land area from inside the volcano was by collecting a star while I was in there. That meant committing to a route that I wasn’t sure I actually needed.

So instead I stayed outside and started thinking about every possible coin source I might have overlooked. That’s when something came back to me: the eye enemies. If you defeat them, they drop a blue coin worth five regular coins. The trouble was their positioning. They sit in places where making them chase you normally isn’t easy, and you need them to follow you in circles long enough to make them dizzy before they collapse.

Digging Into Old Tricks

I had to dig pretty deep into the memory bank for this one. Eventually something clicked. If Mario takes damage, he gets invincibility frames for a short time. Those frames normally just let you escape danger, but here they could be used as a tool. As long as the damage didn’t come from lava, I could briefly move through enemies without being knocked back again.

That meant I could deliberately take a hit, use the invincibility frames to move straight through the centre of the eye enemy, and effectively force it to follow me while I circled it. It was a messy idea, but it was still an idea. I tried it once, and the eye collapsed into a blue coin. Then I did it again with the second one. Two enemies down, ten coins earned, and suddenly the path to one hundred didn’t feel impossible anymore.

I was already preparing myself for another trip into the volcano to collect the last few coins I needed. But as I moved around the course gathering what remained, the total quietly ticked over to one hundred without me ever having to step inside it. Lethal Lava Land was finally complete, and it felt earned in a way the earlier stars hadn’t quite managed.

Back to the Desert

With that course finished, I felt ready to return to Shifting Sand Land and try to wrap that one up as well. The first target was obvious: the four pillars surrounding the pyramid. I grabbed a Wing Cap, launched into the air, and knocked the tops off each one in quick succession until the pyramid opened.

This is where my brain briefly forgot that I was playing a randomizer. I dropped in through the top entrance of the pyramid expecting the usual descent toward the boss platform. Instead, I landed somewhere completely different and spent a moment wondering if I had misremembered the layout entirely. Eventually I realised what had happened. The randomizer had rearranged things again.

After exploring the interior, I managed to find and grab another star. The pyramid still had more to give, though. I’m fairly sure the 100-coin star is possible in there too, but I’d rather deal with the red coin star first before committing to that kind of scavenger hunt.

Understanding the Pyramid

My next attempt was through the front entrance. This time the familiar descending platform didn’t appear at all. That was the moment the pattern became clear. The platform only descends if I enter from the top opening, something I confirmed on my third trip inside.

That still left the boss room to find. I spent a little time navigating the interior and eventually spotted the route that would take me there. When I finally stepped into the arena and defeated the boss, another thought hit me immediately: in a randomizer, the star that appears afterwards can end up anywhere.

Thankfully this one stayed close enough to reach from the platform I was standing on. I wasn’t particularly eager to fight my way back through the pyramid again just to retrieve it.

Closing the Gap

Three more stars secured in the process. The total now sits at eighty-five, leaving thirty-five still out there somewhere in the castle. The run is steadily narrowing toward its endgame, even if the randomizer keeps trying to make every familiar location feel slightly unfamiliar again.

Continue the Journey

← Log 15
Log 17 →

🧢 Mario 64 Randomizer Hub

Mario 64 Randomizer logs are written after each recording session. What looks like planning is usually just remembering old tricks at the last possible moment.

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Isolation Protocol: An Alien Isolation Survival Diary – Log 4: The Cost of Opening Doors

Isolation Protocol Log 4: The Cost of Opening Doors

Platform: Steam Deck
Difficulty: Medium
Rule Set: Apex Predator Rule Active

Video: Lockdown disabled, Xenomorph encounter, motion tracker acquired, Working Joes escalate (no commentary)

I need to lift the lockdown. I’m not convinced that is the right move.

The corridor I needed was sealed off completely. Doors red. Shutters down. No obvious way around it. I checked a nearby terminal first, hoping for something reassuring in the logs, but all I found was confusion. Staff unsure what was happening. Systems failing. No one really in control. It read like a station that already knew it was in trouble.

Eventually I disabled the security measures. There wasn’t another viable route forward. The moment I did, there was a metallic shift above me — subtle, but unmistakable once you recognise it. I barely had time to register the sound before it dropped from the ceiling.

The Xenomorph.

It landed with control. No rush. No panic. Just deliberate movement. I slid under the nearest desk and stayed perfectly still, forcing myself not to adjust position or overcorrect the camera. Its tail moved in and out of view at the edge of my vision, slow and patient. I couldn’t tell if it genuinely hadn’t seen me or if it simply hadn’t decided I was worth the effort yet.

After a stretch of silence that felt far longer than it probably was, it moved through the doorway I had just reopened. That was when it settled in. I hadn’t cleared an obstacle. I had expanded its territory.

The Rule Becomes Real

This was the moment the Apex Predator Rule stopped being theoretical. Five deaths to it and the run ends. If I complete the station and finish the game, I win. Everything else is background noise. The humans don’t decide the outcome. The androids don’t decide the outcome. The thing in the vents does.

Narrowing the threat makes it sharper. I don’t have to fear everything equally. I just have to respect it.

The Room Beyond

The next door required another hack. I matched the symbols more carefully than usual, fully aware that the ceiling mattered just as much as the floor. When the door opened, I heard screaming before I saw anything. It was already in the room.

I stayed back and watched it move. It was quick and disturbingly controlled. There was no frenzy in the way it hunted — just intent. Then it climbed into a vent. Right above where I needed to go to progress.

For a moment I stood there weighing whether to wait or gamble. I also noticed something I hadn’t seen before: it left someone alive. I’ve watched it clear this exact room without hesitation in previous playthroughs. This time it didn’t. That unpredictability unsettled me more than the violence did.

I moved carefully after that. Another terminal. Another quiet hack. When the door shut behind me, I saw it further down the corridor. Not charging. Not searching wildly. Just present.

That felt intentional.

The Working Joes

The Working Joes were calm at first. Polite. Neutral. One instructed me to sit down and wait for assistance. I declined. Waiting has not proven to be a reliable survival strategy here.

I explained that I needed to contact the Torrens. The response was measured but unhelpful. Whether they couldn’t assist or simply wouldn’t was impossible to tell. Their tone never changes, and that makes them difficult to read.

I kept moving and eventually found something more useful than conversation: the motion tracker.

The Motion Tracker

It’s a small device, but it changes everything. For the first time, I wasn’t relying purely on sound and instinct. When it pinged behind me and I was already prepared for movement, I realised how exposed I had been before.

It doesn’t remove the fear. It just gives it structure.

The Shift

The change didn’t build gradually. It flipped.

A man panicked. I didn’t fully understand what he was trying to do, but his actions triggered something within the station’s systems — within Apollo itself. Whatever line the Working Joes had been standing behind vanished.

Their tone flattened further. Their posture shifted. The polite distance disappeared. It wasn’t random aggression. It was a response.

His decision caused it.

From that moment on, they were no longer passive obstacles. The station had reclassified the situation, and I was now part of the problem.

The Elevator

An elevator blocked the path forward, monitored by a security camera. I watched its sweep pattern carefully before slipping into a nearby room to disable it. Even after turning it off, I waited a few seconds longer than necessary. This station punishes impatience.

Calling the lift felt louder than it should have. The wait stretched. With the tracker in hand, every quiet second felt temporary.

When the doors finally closed, I caught sight of the Torrens again through the glass. Verlaine was still broadcasting for help. I don’t know who is left on this station capable of answering her.

The Xenomorph moves through the ceilings. The Working Joes control the corridors. I’m trying to survive in the narrow spaces between them.

Continue the journey:
Isolation Protocol Log 3 |
Isolation Protocol Log 5
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Super Mario 74: A Survivor’s Journey Log 1 – Back to Dice-Fortress

Super Mario 74 – Log 1: Back to Dice-Fortress

Platform: Steam Deck
Mode: Original Edition
Rules: No savestates (except between entries)
Format: No Commentary

Video: Dice-Fortress stars, wall jumping, red coins, and the first return to Super Mario 74 (no commentary)

Well, it has been some time since I last played this hack, and it will be interesting to see how much I remember — and how much my skills have improved since the last time I attempted it.
This run is also bigger than the original game, with an extra 31 stars to find, meaning a total of 151 stars to collect.

After talking to the Toads, it was time to enter my first course: Dice-Fortress.
Not entirely sure why it is called that, as there isn’t a dice in sight, but I’m not here to question it, I’m here to survive it.

I head straight to a sign, which is meant to be the Pink Bob-Omb, but apparently Kamek has turned them into a sign.
They inform me I can’t complete this course until I have a way to fly, so the Wing Cap is going to be needed before this level is fully cleared.

My first star is Wall Jumping Lesson.
The name makes it obvious what I’m expected to do, and while I’m reasonably comfortable with wall jumping, I also know this hack has a habit of humbling me when I least expect it.

With that star collected, I moved onto the next one.

There is a purple switch which activates timed blocks to make reaching higher platforms easier,
but I prefer taking my time with jumps when I can, so instead I practiced my wall jumps and made my way up manually before long-jumping across the pillars for Conquer the Pillars.

The next star I went for was The Box’s Treasure.
There is a box placed just awkwardly enough that it needs a bit of thinking to hit.
I remember past-me kicking the box, but this time I used a ground pound to get enough height to break it open,
followed by a quick wall jump back up to collect the star.

Next up was the familiar task of Collect the 8 Red Coins, which also meant working toward the 100-coin star at the same time.
Thankfully the coins are all in reasonable locations, so this ended up being more of a warm-up than a challenge.

At this point I can’t collect any more stars here without the Wing Cap,
so I’m mentally half-ticking Dice-Fortress off the list for now.

Next stop will be Course Two.
I do have a rough plan in my head based on what I remember from years ago…
but there is also a lot I don’t remember, which probably means this run is going to surprise me more than once.

Continue the Journey

Next Entry:

Super Mario 74 – Log 2

Super Mario 74 Hub:

Super Mario 74 – A Survivor’s Journey

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Cold-Blooded: A Skyrim Survival Diary – Log 8: A Long Ride South

Cold-Blooded Log 8: A Long Ride South

Difficulty: Survival Mode
Platform: Steam Deck
Build: Argonian Mage
Follower: Lydia

Most of today was spent in the saddle. Skyrim rarely lets a journey stay quiet for long.

I started the day at Jorrvaskr with the intention of joining the Companions. Having access to more followers seemed like a sensible step, especially with the roads becoming more dangerous the further I travel.

That plan lasted only a few minutes.

To prove my worth they wanted me to fight one of them, which normally wouldn’t be an issue. The complication was their insistence that I do it with weapons. Steel and I have never had the most productive relationship.

I briefly wondered if bound weapons might satisfy their requirement, but until I actually learn those spells there’s no point forcing the issue. The Companions can wait. Skyrim has plenty of other roads to follow in the meantime.

It was only after leaving Jorrvaskr that I realised something else: I had forgotten to hit record. By the time I noticed, the whole conversation with the Companions had already happened. There wasn’t much point trying to recreate it, so I simply corrected the mistake and continued the journey from there.

The Road Instead of the Hall

With that decision made I mounted up and left Whiterun behind. If I couldn’t prove myself in a training yard, I could at least make progress elsewhere.

My route would take me toward Bonestrewn Crest, where a source of power had been marked. From there the road eventually leads toward Ivarstead and the mountain path to the Greybeards.

The climb to High Hrothgar is unavoidable sooner or later. I’m still not convinced my gear is warm enough for it, but the Greybeards are not known for being patient.

So most of the day was spent riding. Lydia marched alongside when the terrain demanded it, but for the most part the horse carried us across the long stretches of road that connect the quieter corners of Skyrim.

Darkwater Crossing

The journey stayed peaceful until we reached Darkwater Crossing. At first glance it seemed like any other small mining settlement. Smoke from chimneys, a few workers moving about, nothing that immediately suggested trouble.

Trouble found me anyway.

Within moments of arriving, a man hurried over and handed me a battleaxe, asking me to hold onto it for him. Suspicious doesn’t begin to describe it. I passed the weapon straight to Lydia. If someone was about to cause problems, I preferred she had the steel.

Not long after that another man approached asking if I had seen anyone suspicious. I told him about the first man, which immediately escalated the situation. Arrows started flying and the quiet village turned into a battlefield.

There wasn’t time to unravel whatever story lay behind it, so I made a decision and sided with the archer. The man who handed me the axe didn’t survive long enough to explain himself.

The archer had nothing further to say afterward. Lydia, however, now owns a new battleaxe. In Skyrim that counts as a successful outcome.

The Road After Dark

By the time we left Darkwater Crossing the light was already starting to fade. That made the next decision simple. Ivarstead was the nearest place with a bed, and travelling the roads at night rarely ends well.

Unfortunately someone else seemed to have the same idea about meeting me on the road.

Another assassin appeared before we reached the village. That makes the second attempt on my life so far, which means this is no longer coincidence.

Someone out there has decided I’m worth paying to have removed. I still don’t know who, and right now I don’t have the luxury of investigating it.

For the moment, surviving the attempts will have to be enough.

Ivarstead

I reached Ivarstead without further trouble and secured a room at the inn. The horse still doesn’t have a name. I thought I had one earlier, but after trying it out it didn’t feel right. For now the horse remains unnamed, which may actually be safer given the sort of roads we’re travelling.

The innkeeper warned me about the nearby barrow, claiming it was haunted. Naturally that sounded like something worth investigating. I offered to take a look and he was more than happy to let someone else deal with the problem.

While speaking with the locals I also picked up another bounty and received the usual advice that anyone serious about magic should travel to Winterhold.

I may take that advice someday. For now, I suspect my Argonian blood would freeze solid before I reached the gates of the College.

Eventually I paid for a bed and turned in for the night. The innkeeper lingered in the room for a while, apparently part of the service. I chose not to question it too much.

Tomorrow I’ll investigate the haunted barrow and see what exactly is waiting inside.

Continue the Journey

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Submerged: A Subnautica Survival Diary – Log 9: Beacons, Blueprints, and a First Proper Home

Submerged Log 9: Beacons, Blueprints, and a First Proper Home

Platform: Steam Deck

Video: Beacon run, Mushroom Forest scavenging, and first base module (no commentary)

When you hit a brick wall in Subnautica, the game doesn’t give you a hint. It gives you more ocean.

I’ve stalled out. Upgrades are half-finished, blueprints are dangling just out of reach,
and my “plan” has become a list of things I’d like to do once I stop being poor in titanium.
So I do the only thing left: explore.

My memory is decent, but this planet is an endless blue maze, and I’m done pretending I’ll remember
where anything is. It’s finally time to start using beacons properly.

Beacon Therapy (Mushroom Forest Edition)

I craft a beacon, head out to the Mushroom Forest, and deploy it the second I arrive.
The logic is simple: if the radio nudged me here once, there’s probably something useful nearby.
I name the beacon, mark the spot, and start searching with actual purpose for once.

The theory pays off fast. I find another piece of the Cyclops puzzle, and — more importantly —
the second Moonpool fragment.
That one moment flips the entire run. Base building isn’t a “someday” thing anymore.
It’s now.

Side Loot: Shale Outcrops and Surprise Diamonds

Since I’m already here (and my sense of direction has clearly been outsourced to a beacon),
I start checking what this biome actually offers.

The big win: diamonds in shale outcrops.
That’s the kind of detail Future Me will be grateful for, assuming Future Me survives
long enough to remember why diamonds matter.

Prep Work: Pin Recipes, Build the Tool, Commit to a Location

I head back to the lifepod and start doing the boring-but-important part:
preparation.
I pin the recipes I know I’ll need, craft the Habitat Builder,
and finally accept that I need a home that isn’t a floating tin can with a radio.

Of course, the radio fires off another distress signal mid-planning.
I add it to the list. I already know how that story ends: no survivors,
just another location stamped onto my growing collection of disappointment.

Base Site Picked (Mostly): “Somewhere Between Here and There”

I settle on a spot roughly halfway between my lifepod and the Mushroom Forest.
In theory, it’s a sensible compromise: close enough to my old “base” for convenience,
close enough to the Mushroom Forest for materials and fragments.

In practice, I’m eyeballing distance in open ocean, which is basically the same
as saying I chose the location by vibes.

I place the first module and immediately run into the first real base problem:
power.
No power means no oxygen inside, which is a fun twist for something that is supposed to be a shelter.

Power Decisions: Solar Wins (For Now)

I weigh up options and land on solar. It’s not glamorous, but it’s doable right now,
and “right now” is the only timeframe this planet respects.

I do some early prep for the Moonpool materials while I’m thinking about the future,
but the titanium math is brutal.
I’m going to need a lot more, which means a dedicated scrap hunt is officially coming.

Hatch Installed, Oxygen Not Included

I craft a hatch so I can actually get inside my new base, but until I get power online,
it’s basically a room-shaped hazard.
No power, no oxygen — and my base is currently doing a great impression of a death trap.

I do have an idea for how to work around that if I need to,
but first I want to solve the problem properly.

Radio Upgrade: No More Lifepod Commuting

One small quality-of-life win: I get a radio set up at the base-in-progress.
That way, I don’t have to keep swimming back to the lifepod every time the game
decides to hand me another “go here” message.

I also keep the Seamoth parked close by.
It’s doing double duty as a safety net and a temporary beacon until I can get a second
beacon made specifically for the base location.

Solar Online: First Breath in the New Base

Once the solar panel finally goes up, everything changes.
I step inside my newly powered base and take the first proper breath of “this might actually work.”

It needs a lot of work. It’s barely more than a shell.
But it’s mine, it’s powered, and it’s a start.
Temporary home or not, it’s the first thing on this planet that feels even slightly under control.

Continue the journey:
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Unprepared: An Interloper Survival Diary in The Long Dark Log #5 – Day 16: A Long Way for Steel

Unprepared Log 16: A Long Way for Steel

Difficulty: Interloper
Region: Mountain Town → Forlorn Muskeg
Platform: Steam Deck
Survivor: Will

Video: Forge run through Mountain Town and Forlorn Muskeg (no commentary)

Today is the day. Which usually means today is going to hurt.

The plan is finally in motion: get to Forlorn Muskeg, use the forge, and come back alive.
I grab every bit of scrap I’m willing to suffer for, drop whatever I can’t justify carrying,
take the hammer, and head for the route out of Mountain Town knowing full well this is the point of no return.

I don’t even make it to the rope before the game pushes back.
There’s a wolf waiting for me, and I’m still too heavy to climb.
More gear hits the snow, and apparently that’s all the encouragement the wolf needs.
The hammer earns its keep, and I get down the rope shaken, annoyed, but still standing.

I stop off at the cave to recover a little before committing further.
One more rope later and I find myself in Milton Basin, which clears up some long-standing confusion about where I actually was last time.
I want to loot, but I don’t trust myself not to linger, and the forge matters more than curiosity right now.

Leaving Mountain Town Behind

Wolves make the decision for me anyway.
One gets distracted by rabbits, the other decides I’m the problem and effectively chases me out of the region.
I don’t fight it.
Mountain Town can wait.
Today is about steel.

Forlorn Muskeg, As Expected

Crossing into Forlorn Muskeg feels familiar in the worst possible way.
This is the region that has ended more runs for me than I care to count,
usually because I rushed, panicked, or convinced myself I could “just make it”.
I’m not doing that today.

I spot a deer carcass almost immediately and keep walking.
That decision annoys me more than it should, but the forge is still too far away,
and I know exactly how quickly stopping for food here turns into a death sentence.

I mountain goat my way down a slope toward the rail line, quietly thankful for all the questionable Skyrim habits that taught me how to do this without dying.
Near the tracks, another wolf shows up, just to keep things consistent.
I briefly consider heading toward Broken Railroad as a backup plan, then think better of it and double back.
When I return, the wolf is gone.
I don’t question it.

Thin Ice and a Bear Problem

I hug the right side of the region, aiming for the safest path I know toward the forge.
Unfortunately, there’s a bear standing directly on it.
Every alternative route I try leads straight onto thin ice, and instead of running and hoping for the best, I back out and reassess.
Forlorn Muskeg punishes panic.

I end up following the route the bear took and manage to find a safer line to a broken pier.
There’s a ruined building nearby with very little worth taking,
but at this point I’ll take whatever the game is willing to give me.

Old Spence, At Last

Eventually, the Old Spence Family Homestead comes into view,
and I don’t think I’ve ever been happier to see an exposed, half-collapsed building.
It’s warmer here.
Not comfortable, but enough to stop the constant bleed.

Inside, I find a simple parka.
My windbreaker, which has somehow survived with me since the early days of this run,
finally gets demoted to inner-layer duty.
There’s also a bed that’s slightly warmer than my bedroll, and right now that feels like luxury.

Steel, Finally

I get the forge running and make a practical choice.
I want a hatchet, but I don’t make one.
The improvised knife comes first so I can prepare arrow shafts later.
I can always come back for more tools if I survive the return trip.

I forge the knife, then turn every piece of scrap I carried across two regions into arrowheads.
Once that’s done, I sleep.

I wake up with steel tools and real progress for the first time in a while.
Now all that’s left is getting back to Mystery Lake, crafting a bow, and finally being properly armed.
Unfortunately, Forlorn Muskeg still stands between me and that plan.

Continue the Journey

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Stranded: A Minecraft Survival Diary – Log 7: Reinforcement, Not Recovery

Stranded – Log 7: Reinforcement, Not Recovery

Platform: Steam Deck
Mode: Survival
Format: No Commentary

Video: Reforging armour, expanding the farm, naming Copyright Bridge, and another descent into the mine (no commentary)

After the explosion last time, I headed out with the intention of recovering what I’d lost. It didn’t take long to realise two problems. I had no idea where it happened, and I hadn’t even started recording. I turned back, returned to the house, stood beside my bed, and only then began the capture. It felt deliberate. It wasn’t.

The gear is gone. No landmarks, no coordinates, just a vague direction and a crater somewhere in the world. I chose not to chase it. Instead of wandering blindly, I reset. Start again. Prepare properly.

The mine had already provided enough copper for that decision to work. I forged a full set of copper armour and equipped it immediately. It isn’t iron, but it feels like protection. I crafted multiple copper pickaxes as well. If I am going to live underground half the time, I need tools ready before I need them.

I expanded the farm slightly. One extra line of wheat. Nothing dramatic, but more wheat means more bread, and more bread means fewer mistakes caused by hunger. Small adjustments compound over time.

I also decided the bridge deserved a name. If I am staying longer than planned, the area needs structure. Given the trouble this bridge has caused me, there was only one fitting title. I placed a sign beside it and named it Copyright Bridge. No ceremony. Just documentation.

Then it was back to the mine, and back to water. No matter where I dig, I find it. I could mine straight up and still uncover a leak. I have lit the tunnels as aggressively as possible. I refuse to be caught mid-swing by something I should have prevented.

The sounds don’t help. Zombies echo through stone. At other times it’s drowned. I keep reminding myself the mine is secure, but sound travels in ways confidence does not.

The mine rewarded persistence with more coal and copper. Coal keeps the torches burning. Copper keeps the tools in rotation. I may need to prioritise weapons soon. If I’m hearing drowned underground, they’re closer than I’d prefer.

I eventually stopped not because of fear, but because the pickaxes began to break in sequence. That is usually my signal. I could place a bed closer to the shaft and reduce travel time, but I won’t. The mine should feel like labour. The house should feel like shelter. I intend to keep that distinction.

I expanded storage slightly when I returned. Organisation reduces mistakes. After that, I turned my attention back to Copyright Bridge. I don’t trust drowned wandering onto it while I’m crossing. A fence felt necessary.

While gathering wood, I found cocoa beans. A small discovery, but meaningful. Cookies are now possible. They won’t solve anything, but morale counts.

I misjudged the amount of fencing required. I didn’t even cover one full side of the bridge. That can wait. Tonight, I have armour again, crops growing, and a mine that remains intact.

Square one isn’t defeat. It’s reinforcement.

Continue the Journey

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